Brother's Keeper
by SNSIE
Summary: In Bloomington, Indiana, brothers are turning against their own brothers. It always ends in a deadly bloodbath. Sam and Dean investigate the murders. In the end, the brothers are pinned against each other with murder etched in one of their hearts.


**"Brother's Keeper"**

_by: Seriously Sam_

The words the mysterious man whispered in his ear vibrated wildly in his mind. The words kept repeating themselves until he'd finally decided to leave the office and pay his big brother a visit. They were to be a team but his brother usually backstabbed and seized all the glory that was shoved their way. No more. He had to be sacrificed for the greater good of their company. They couldn't go on with _him_ being both arrogant and ignorant in his ways.

He couldn't exactly remember the drive to his brother's apartment. All he could think about was the anger that bubbled up inside of him and threatened to erupt. The nerve - the sheer nerve of the guy. It didn't matter, however, as his brother would get what was coming to him.

He let himself in through the front door with the key hidden underneath the mailboxes on the first floor and strode towards the kitchen. There was his brother in sweatpants and a Norte Dame t-shirt reading the newspaper. He looked up, his dark eyes glaring at his younger brother in confusion. Brushing his chestnut hair away from his eyes, he stood up from the barstool.

"What the hell, Caleb?" he screamed. "You don't just go barging into someone's apart-"

"_You_ don't get the right to talk to me like that! All you ever do is barge into people's lives and steal all their glory!"

"Is this about the West Union Bank? Oh, come on, Caleb, your design was like all the other ones you do: one dimensional and traditional. _I_ have to pick up your half-assed attempt at work to even make the buildings modern and functional."

Caleb scoffed at his brother in disbelief. A soft whisper floated into his ear and told him to start opening kitchen drawers - one drawer held the knives. There was no point in arguing with his stubborn brother. Their disagreement would end like it always does with Caleb leaving in a huff and his brother getting his way. No more.

"I'm an architect. Without me, you wouldn't be anythin', Adam."

"I'm the engineer who has to fix all your mistakes. Why shouldn't I take the credit when you could care less about your job?" reasoned Adam as he took a step towards his brother. "You have this 'whatever' attitude, Caleb. You'd rather be out getting high and drinking yourself into alcohol poisoning than actually make a future for yourself."

Caleb wasn't really listening as his brother went on his verbal rampage. He could barely hear the words that were rolling off Adam's tongue with ease. Sound waves and frequencies - that's all his words were. Opening a drawer, he noted the cutting board, coasters, and potholders. Closing it shut, Caleb went to the next drawer to see sharp knives and other pointy utensils.

"Would you stop snooping?" Caleb pulled out the sharpest knife and let the kitchen lights shine upon it. "What are you doing? Put that back!"

The knife flew out and slashed Adam across the neck. Blood gurgled out as he started to gasp for breath. His hands fruitlessly reached up to stop the blood from flowing. The blade punctured into his chest next and then his abdomen. Caleb lost track of how many times the knife pierced through his brother's skin.

The next thing he knew, he was standing over his brother's cold, mutilated body. The tiles were coated in crimson. His face looked nearly as white as the floor. Caleb felt a moment of peace wash over him, a feeling of release. No more. The world was finally rid of Adam.

"You did good," a voice from behind praised.

Twisting around, Caleb saw the man who made him see the light about his brother in the first place. The man, who brought him salvation by convincing him that murdering his brother was the only way out, just stood in the kitchen in a cloak and sandals. The knife in his right hand slipped from Caleb's hand and landed on the floor with a loud _clank!_ A smile graced his features as he looked towards the mysterious man whose name had never once been uttered.

"That son-of-a-bitch deserved it."

SUPERNATURAL

It seemed like an impossible feat to count all of the books in Bobby Singer's house in South Dakota let alone have them organized in some fashion. Sam sat in the middle of a fortress of books. He filed through them patiently as he looked for texts specifically on demon hierarchies, more specifically demons above a Crossroad Demon. The words seemed to blend together after the long hours of searching through each and every demon-centered book.

Glancing towards the window, Sam watched for several seconds as Dean fixed the Impala. They'd been driving through South Dakota when they pulled into a gas station for a pit stop. Sam waited patiently until Dean disappeared to get food before fiddling around with the engine. There were a lot of things Sam Winchester knew about, but cars were at the bottom of the list despite the fact that Dean had tried to show him the odds and ends. Besides knowing his way around under the hood really wasn't what he had to be worried about. When Dean turned the key in the ignition to be on their way, a series of foul words left his mouth as the engine whined and spluttered.

That's how they ended up at Bobby's for the past couple days. Parts for the Impala seemed to be on back order, and Dean's patience became thinner every morning. Sam, on the other hand, had ample amounts of time at last for rummaging through the mountain of books. If there was anything that held the answer to all things demons, it lay within the pages of Bobby's books. The words of the Crossroad Demon had been ringing through his head for months. There was someone above her who held Dean's contract, and Sam had to figure exactly who in order to save his big brother from an eternity of horrors.

Sam didn't hear Bobby enter the room or feel his presence hovering over the younger hunter. A throat cleared and that's when Sam looked up to see the owner of the house. The books were a complete disaster around him. Guilt washed up through Sam as he gave an apologetic glance at his mentor who had tried so hard to help ease the pain of loosing John Winchester nearly a year ago by giving them a place to stay and someone to run to if they needed help.

"I hear you and Dean aren't talkin'," he said matter-of-factly with his arms crossed over his chest. "What you boys fightin' about?"

"It's more like what aren't we fighting about," Sam sighed. "Dean's just…"

Dean's just being a stubborn ass who was trying to make his younger brother hate him instead of feeling guilty when the hellhounds ravaged. Sam knew that his brother was only trying to look out for him. Sam also knew that Dean was being a general ass most of the time so when he died it wouldn't be a big deal. Except, it was a big deal. No matter what he did or said, Sam would still feel like dying when the year was up.

"Dean said you've been doing things you shouldn't be doing."

"I shouldn't do them?" he questioned incredulously. "My brother is _dying_, Bobby, and he's channeling Dad's mentality. Dean's giving orders now like I'm some incompetent kid."

"He's lookin' out for you, Sam."

A disbelieving laugh worked its way up his throat and escaped his lips. No, Dean wasn't acting the way he was for Sam. Selfishness and guilt worked its way up into Dean. That's all it was. Dean may have sacrificed his life for his brother in either a selfish or an unselfish act, but what he was doing now was purely selfish.

"Dean just doesn't want to feel guilty about his deal." Sam leaned back onto his elbows and glanced up at Bobby. "The Crossroad's Demon said someone higher up holds the contract. Any ideas?"

"You summoned the demon?"

"What else was I supposed to do, Bobby? He's m'brother."

The older hunter looked like he was struggling whether to strangle the living daylights out of Sam or to just nod his head in understanding. Dragging a weary hand over his face, Sam adjusted his focus back onto the task at hand.

That's when Dean entered the house covered in oil and grease. An unreadable expression played on his face as he cleaned his hands on an already dirty rag. He didn't look up at either Bobby or Sam. His eyes were glued on his hands

"We're leaving. There's a job in Indiana."

"What?" questioned Sam.

"The Impala's fixed and there's a job." Dean looked up to stare dully at his brother. "What else is there to know?"

Sam snatched some of the books on demons and stashed them in the trunk with his and Dean's bags. They drove for four hours straight with Led Zeppelin blaring through the speakers. Both brothers were silent the entire time. Dean kept his jaw clenched and eyes on the road. Reaching towards the volume knob, Sam turned the music down until only a soft humming could be heard.

"What's the case?"

"Two brothers find themselves in disagreement with one another. One brother is extremely jealous. The jealous brother kills his own flesh and blood. It's always a stab wound of some sort. There have been eight deaths in all so far in Bloomington, Indiana and surrounding cities."

"What do you think? Uh, vengeful spirit? A demon that escaped the Devil's Gate?"

"I'm thinking I can't understand why my own _brother_ would mess with _my_ car."

Ever since the small gas station in South Dakota, Sam had been waiting for Dean to bring up the car. There were unspoken rules between the brothers: always watch each other's backs and don't mess with the Impala. Sam could remember when he was a kid. Their dad talked as though the Impala was his third child, his only daughter. When John gave Dean the Impala, the guy had basically gotten married to the car. Dean had never looked happier since.

"I needed to do research on who could hold your contract so I can get you out of the Crossroad's deal."

"Look, Sammy, I get it. You want to get me out of the deal, but I can't let you drop dead in the process." Dean glanced sideways at his brother. "That doesn't constitute you messin' with the Impala though. I mean. This baby will be yours one day, and I gotta know she's going to be in good hands. You ever do something like this again, your blood _will_ be on my hands, Bitch."

"Jerk," replied Sam half-heartedly.

The drive to Indiana was a long and awkward. The brothers were both stewing in their minds. Sam only wanted to save his brother no matter the consequences. Dean, on the other hand, was freaked out about the prospect of going to hell but refused to let those fears surface in front of his little brother. The rule in the Winchester family was that one didn't talk about their feelings - _ever_.

Dressed in their best _L.A. Law_ suits, the boys walked into the local jail where Caleb Eads was currently awaiting trial for murder. The boys waited in a small negotiation room where Dean sat looking around the room in boredom while Sam paced. The idea of even being in a prison didn't set well in Sam. He could still remember their small spell in the Green River County jail only several months previous.

"Let me do the talking," insisted Sam.

"Oh, College Boy, you wanna put those delusional dreams of being a lawyer into action?"

"Dean-"

Before he could finish or argue, the door to the room opened. Dean smirked at his brother before turning to take in Caleb Eads. He was no older than thirty with shackles on his wrists and ankles. He looked peaceful, a soft smile gracing his features. A guard forced him down into the chair before cuffing his shackles to the table.

"Mister Eads," Dean spoke, "we're from the public attorney's office. I'm Ben Griffith and this is my partner Cliff Roebuck."

Sam glanced down at his brother and rolled his eyes. It was a surprise that people actually _bought _that their names were either famous celebrities or famous fictional characters or both combined. Pulling out a chair, he took a seat next to his brother. Caleb Eads seemed unfazed by the hunters or what was happening to him.

"Can you tell us what happened the night your brother died?" questioned Sam.

The eerie thing about Caleb Eads was that he actually smiled broadly when his brother's murder was brought up. The guy had a look of sheer pride etched across his face. Leaning forward, elbows on the table, Eads looked as though he were eager to retell the tale.

"I can tell you I killed that bastard. He thought he was so…_ perfect_. Adam always had it good. He was our parents' favorite, the grade 'A' meat, the successful 'partner' in our business. It was like I was nothin', a piece of shit on his shoe. I couldn't take it anymore, so I stabbed him. Then I stabbed him some more," said Eads excitedly with an evil glint in his eye. "You ever just wanted to murder your brother because he's a pain in your ass?"

Glancing towards Sam, Dean let out a puff of air as a smirk crossed his face. Sure, Sam was a pain in the ass who just whined and had the mentality of a girl almost all the time, but Dean would never get annoyed enough to actually hurt his brother let alone off him. Dean protected Sam no matter what. It had been his job ever since he could remember.

"So what? Did you just wake up one day and decide to murder your own _brother_ in cold blood or was it a gradual thing?" questioned Dean harshly with a cold stare. "'Cause, you see, my baby brother is a pain in my ass every other week but I don't wake up wanting to stab him several times."

"My guardian angel told me it was the only way out."

Dean scoffed as he ran a hand along his face. Caleb Eads was a quack. Standing up, Dean motioned for Sam to follow him out of the room. Sam, on the other hand, wanted to know more. At least, they knew they were dealing with _something_. It was either a spirit or a demon and only Eads could help them either salt and burn or put a bullet through the sucker.

"Mister Eads, what did your angel look like?"

"Oh, he was awesome. He was dressed like freakin' Jesus in this cloth thing. His words of wisdom just shot through me, Man. He told me, 'Son, you gotta kill Adam or else you'll always be in the sidelines your whole life.'"

"What did he look like?" pressed Dean. "Was he surrounded in white light? Did you meet him in a church?"

Eads glared over at Dean as a scoff escaped his thin lips. Sam glanced at his brother and silently told him to shut the hell up. Dean ignored his brother as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the murderer across the table.

"He looked like Joe Regular, and I met him outside of a bar, Smartass."

"What bar?"

"Why? You lookin' for some salvation?" Eads laughed. "'Cause there ain't enough good in you to be saved."

Dean tilted his head slightly with a soft frown and shrugged his shoulders in agreement before walking towards the table once more. Leaning forward with his hands gripping the edge of the table, he stared at the murderer who gazed coolly back.

"What bar?" asked Sam calmly before his brother had a chance to say anything.

"Marietta's," he complied. "Mister Griffith, I don't want to see your sorry ass again or I'll kill you just like I killed Adam."

"Fair enough," responded Dean with a cocky grin.

Sam offered a weak smile before thanking Eads for his time. The two brothers walked out of the jail. Dean shook his head as he unlocked the Impala.

"What is your problem?" questioned Sam as the pair of hunters situated themselves into the Impala.

"I'm sick and tired of doing these _angel_ cases," he reasoned as he turned the key in the ignition. "Some evil son-of-a-bitch looks like Jesus? Oh, that's a new one."

"We did one angel case in the past that turned out to be a spirit of a priest. What really is your problem? Are you still pissed about the Impala? Dude, I said I was sorry. All right? Seriously though, if you won't help yourself than I gotta do it for you!"

Glancing sideways at Sam, Dean let out a mocking sigh. His mouth opened as though to say some smart-alecky remark but instead clamped his lips together tightly. Of course, Dean would never succumb to actually talking about what was bothering him and it seemed like he was sick of saying the same old jokes about the matter.

"So Eads was jealous of his brother?" questioned Sam. "Jealous enough to kill him in cold blood. You think it's a spirit?"

"Remember that case we were just on with freakin' Bela? The ghost ship one where the guy held a kangaroo court to slaughter his own brother?"

"What? You're thinking it's too much of a coincidence to be another spirit?"

"I'm thinking that it's sorta odd for two different jobs in two different towns to be so alike."

SNSIESNSIESNSIESNSIESNSIESNSIE

Cairo, Egypt

A single sword lay idly on a table surrounded by various scholars from around the world. It was a simple sword made of wood with a small passage engraved into the handle. The etching was covered in dirt and difficult to make out. The scholars in the room each poured over it one by one. Their glasses were on as they squinted at the wooden sword. Notes were jotted down quickly on legal pads as they studied the ancient treasure.

The last person stepped up to glance at the old sword. She straightened her gray suit as her dark eyes glanced down in amusement. Curiosity did not shine in her eyes like all the rest but rather a hungry anticipation. A smirk graced her features as her fingers itched to grab the sword right then and there. Bela Talbot knew exactly how to proceed with one look at the moderator.

"How old is it supposedly?" she asked in a British accent once it was her turn to admire the artifact.

"My guess?" The moderator of the small group of scholars talked slyly with a smirk. "I'd say before Christ. The lettering is clearly Hebrew and the way that it was molded and constructed would place it to that time period. You can see points of decay in the wood, for instance, the rotting of the tip of the blade, which are consistent with thousands of years resting under the soil."

"If it was around for thousands of years, would it really still be this fully intact?"

The other scholars started to file out of the room while whispering gleefully about the archeological find. Bela propped her elbows up onto the table and studied the sword with mild interest. Her bottom lip found itself in-between her teeth as her eyes focused on the moderator.

"Well, there are easy explanations for that."

"I'll take your word for it, Mister…"

"Please, call me Jack."

Reaching out, Bela lightly brushed her fingers against the back of Jack's hand. A smile crossed her features as her fingers trailed up the man's arm. The man twitched slightly under her touch as he glared lustfully at Bela.

"Why don't we go back to where I'm staying?" he suggested. "I can tell you all about the sword."

Arching an eyebrow gracefully, she nodded slightly in agreement as a girly giggle escaped her lips. As Jack turned around, the smile left Bela's face and she let her bag slip from her shoulder. Swinging it forcefully, the bag hit the man in the back of the head with a loud _thump!_ He fell to the ground face down and unconscious.

Glaring disdainfully at the man, she grabbed the sword from the table and snuck out the back way. Once outside, she discarded several bricks and rocks from her purse before strolling off to find the guy she hired to helicopter her out of Cairo. After only minutes of walking, she spotted the flying craft and jogged towards it, a grin dancing on her face.

SNSIESNSIESNSIESNSIESNSIESNSIE

In a seedy motel room, Sam surfed Internet archives of the previous murders. He read the details with care and tried to find a pattern, clues, anything that could help them out. Dean lay on the bed across the room asleep. His even breathing filled the room. Dean was right, something just didn't add up in the murders, because they had just been on a case a few weeks before with the same incidents. Nothing was ever a coincidence in their lives, and they had never been on two hunts with so many similarities in such a short amount of time.

The next morning, the boys made their way to a small diner for breakfast. On their way, they spotted a house surrounded with police cars and yellow caution tape cordoning off the yard. Pulling the Impala over to the side of the road and cutting the engine, Dean opened the glove box and shifted through the ID tags until he pulled out two Federal Marshals' badges. He tossed one to Sam before getting out of the car.

Walking up to the yellow tape, Dean flipped open his badge and introduced himself as James Rockford. The brothers ducked under the caution tape and made their way through the lawn of the crime scene. A young police officer stood by the entrance of the house. The hunters walked up to him.

"James Rockford, Federal Marshal. Can you tell me what happened?"

"A husband and father of two kids was murdered by his own brother early this morning. Apparently, the brother was a drug addict, who had no other family and couldn't hold a steady job."

"He essentially killed his brother out of jealousy then?" questioned Sam.

"Yeah, poor bastard."

"Was he stabbed?" questioned Dean.

"Actually, yeah, he was," the officer replied with an odd look on his face. "How'd you know?"

Dean gestured his badge as he craned his neck to see inside the house. They'd have to go in to look for sulfur to figure out whether they were dealing with a demon or something else.

"You guys had another one just a few days ago. A brother went psycho and killed his own flesh and blood. It seems to be happening a lot lately," Sam informed.

"Yeah, it's like there's something in the water if you ask me."

"You've had five cases so far, right?"

"Six. This is our seventh."

Sam nodded in understanding and sympathy. Something just didn't seem to add up. One brother turning against another? It was like an old bible tale was playing itself out in reality.

"Any leads?"

Dean darted a look at his brother. _Leads_? The police had no idea what was really going on, and Sam was asking some punk kid what he thought?

"Not that I know of."

"Thank you for your time," said Sam.

The brothers walked inside the house and glanced around. Dean made a beeline for the window as he rummaged through his pocket for a tissue or something. Running two fingers wrapped in a dollar bill along the windowsill, he picked up a nice layer of sulfur.

"What do you think you're doing? This is a crime scene," an officer stopped in front of the brothers with his hands on his hips.

"Federal Marshals," introduced Sam as he pulled out his badge. "We were just leaving."

Sam and Dean left the crime scene. The younger hunter shook his head as they strolled towards the Impala. They had to get out of there fast before their plate was picked up since Dean had been caught tampering with evidence.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sam demanded as he hauled his frame into the car.

"Sulfur," replied Dean as he tossed over the bill. "Looks like it's not Casper."

Pulling out onto the road, Sam leaned back into the bench seat and thought. There was a theory that had started to build up in his mind since he heard of the case. A theory that he didn't think could possibly be true. Although, the brothers had seen weirder things in their lifetime.

"It's weird that every single murder is a brother killing a brother on purpose with no regret. That case before with the ghost ship was just a family member killing another family member either on purpose or on accident. This case has a Cain and Abel."

"Cain killed Abel or something right?"

"Dean, didn't you pay attention at all during Pastor Jim's sermons?"

Whenever the Winchester family was in Blue Earth, Minnesota, they were forced to sit through the pastor's sermons. Pastor Jim always said it was John's way of paying for his family's keep.

"Was I supposed to?"

"Cain and Abel both brought forth offerings to God who only accepted Abel's. Out of jealousy and rivalry, Cain killed Abel." Sam paused as his thoughts fell into place.

"Yeah, that sounds familiar."

"What if Cain became a demon once he died?"

"What?"

"The Seven Deadly Sins, Dean, they were actually seven devils who walked this earth. What if Cain, having been the first murderer, is a devil or a demon? What if he escaped Hell when we opened the gate and now is forcing a brother to turn against another brother?"

"Well, it doesn't really matter. We got the Colt with some kickass bullets. Let's go to the bar and pay Cain a visit."

Sam shook his head. The last thing they should do was go guns-a-blazing into a bar with a potentially very dangerous demon. They needed a strategy, a plan. They needed to actually figure out if the demon even could be Cain.

"Dean, no. We can't."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Uh, I don't know, Dean, perhaps the fact that we're _brothers_ and this demon targets brothers. This could turn out badly!" protested Sam. "We could end up killing each other!"

"You honestly think this demon can get to us? Come on, Sam, we're stronger than that!"

Compromise: it was how the brothers got along without killing each other. They would go to the bar, stake it out to look for the demon but not act. After observation, they would go back to their motel and research. Perhaps, they would even call Bobby to figure the whole mess out.

Each nursing a beer, Sam and Dean sat in a corner booth of the bar. Their eyes darted around looking for any guy out of place. Hours passed but nobody out of the ordinary appeared. Dean went onto his fifth beer while Sam hadn't even finished his first.

"Dude, I gotta hit the head," announced Dean as he stood up.

"I'll come with you," Sam responded as he started to rise from his seat.

"I'm not five. I can go to the potty perfectly fine by myself," he mocked with anger slipping into his words.

"What if you see Cain? Dean, he turns brothers against brothers. I don't want you coming back ready to slice and dice me."

"Get a grip, will you?"

Sam sank reluctantly back into the vinyl booth. He watched Dean carefully as he maneuvered through the crowd of drunken patrons towards the back of the bar. Once around the corner, Sam couldn't see him any longer and the anxiety started.

Dean glanced behind him. His eyes were peeled open for anyone that could potentially be possessed or for a demon. Reaching behind him, he made sure that the Colt was still secure between the elastic of his jeans and the flesh of his back.

An 'out of order' sign graced the men's bathroom door. Groaning, Dean glanced over at the ladies' room. _Nah_. Walking pass the door, he made his way towards the back alley exit. There was nothing wrong with taking a leak by some dumpster.

The air was cool on his skin as he walked out into the back alley. His eyes darted around the place for any sign of the demon. Quickly, he relieved himself. The whole time, he kept his ears strained for any kind of noise. Zipping up his jeans, his eyes caught a yellowish substance on one of the dumpsters. Running his finger along the green plastic, sulfur coated his fingertips.

"Dean Winchester," Dean jerked around at the male voice. "I hear you're jealous of your baby brother Sammy."

Reaching calmly behind him, Dean gripped the Colt in his hand and whipped it around. The gun pointed directly at the demon who was dressed exactly like Eads had described. A cloth cloak hung loosely on his shoulders and sandals clad his feet. A beard covered his chin and his eyes gleamed.

"Put the gun down, Dean," the demon spoke in a honey-smooth voice.

The gun lowered ever so slightly before Dean even knew what he was doing. A jolt shot through him as he realized what he had done. His hands jerked upwards as the gun pointed at the demon again.

"Sammy was the one who had the childhood, Daddy's favorite, the one who got to go to college. Even now, he's the special one." The demon took a step forward as Dean stood paralyzed, enchanted by the demon. "Why does he get to live while you spend an eternity in hell? What's so great about him? Hmm, Dean? Why does he deserve to live more than you? Daddy told you to put a bullet in his brain if he became evil. Guess what, Dean, Sam's back from the dead and acting a bit off. I know you've noticed it."

Every instinct inside of Dean was telling him to shoot the demon. Except it felt as though the demon had a hold on his body so that he was unable to execute the motions he wanted to. The gun lowered and pointed towards the ground as the demon took another step forward. A hand reached out and gripped Dean's shoulder.

"'Atta, Boy, Dean," he whispered with a twisted smirk.

His hand glided up Dean's neck and cheek until the cool hand rested on his forehead. The demon pressed his palm against Dean's head. His eyes rolled back in his head as everything became blurry and disorienting.

"Kill Sammy," a soft murmur throbbed inside of his head. "Kill Sammy and you'll be free."

A shock went through Dean's body as his eyes snapped open. Nobody was in the alleyway but him. His head pulsated as he slowly started to come to his senses. What the hell?

"No!" shouted Dean into the air as he placed the Colt back to where it had been. "I'm not gonna kill him! I'm gonna kill you though, you son-of-a-bitch!"

Stumbling back into the bar, Dean quickly made his way back to the corner booth. Sammy was sitting there impatiently with his eyes glued towards the hallway where Dean disappeared minutes before. Dean walked quickly towards his brother and felt hate bottle up inside of him.

"_Why did Sammy always get the breaks? Why isn't he going to hell with a one-way ticket? He is a tainted psychic while you're human."_

Dean tried to force the thoughts out of his mind, but they kept creeping back up like a parasite. He wanted to stab Sam right then and there. He wanted nothing more than to set back time and have his brother dead from a stab wound with no Crossroad Demon Deal. Hell wouldn't be looming in his near future if that happened.

Sliding into the booth across from Sam, Dean gripped his bottle of beer. The words to tell his brother to run, that he was touched by Cain, fell flat in his throat. Did he really want Sam to have a running start?

_"The bastard got to go to college while you had to tend to Daddy. Weren't your dreams just as important?"_ the voice vibrated violently in his mind. _"Johnny loved Sam even though he betrayed the family. He could have cared less about you."_

"Dean, are you all right?"

Snapping out of the thoughts, Dean smirked sardonically at his baby brother. His mind started to fill with the best time and place to stab Sam to death. The images of Sam cold and bloody on the floor made him both fervent and nauseated at the same time. He just had to get Sam in the right mindset, and the kid was dead.

"Me? I'm fine," responded Dean. "Hey, obviously our demon isn't coming tonight. Why don't we go back to the motel and catch a few winks. Huh?"

Sam looked at Dean oddly. His brow furrowed as he concentrated on his brother's odd behavior, his eagerness to leave the bar. Something wasn't right, that was for sure.

"All right, Dude, I think you've had five too many beers. Give me the keys. I'll drive."

Reaching out a hand, Sam waited patiently for the keys. Without objection, Dean dug the keys out of his jacket pocket and tossed them towards his brother. Sam caught them with ease and situated them into his own pocket.

"Uh, I think I'm going to hit the head too before we leave."

"Bathroom's out of order," Dean spoke matter-of-factly. "Just wait until we get back to the motel."

"Yeah, sure. Uh, Dean, can you get us some food from the sub shop next door? I'm starving."

"Really? I'm not all that hungry."

Letting out a soft laugh, Sam tried not to show the effect the small statement had on his mind. He glanced around the bar to see just how many people were present. Sam didn't want anyone getting hurt, but he needed people around to keep Dean in check.

"Let's go then," he announced as he stood up from the booth.

Sam tried to keep his distance from Dean without making his intentions obvious. The keys jingled nervously in his hand as he fumbled slightly with the lock on the driver's side of the Impala. Dean walked around the car and held onto the handle to the passenger door. Once Sam folded his legs into the car, he locked the door. A 'what the hell' look was thrown at Sam before he started the engine and sped off down the road. Glancing in the rearview mirror, a pissed off Dean stared daggers at the car.

Holding onto the wheel with one hand, Sam fumbled in his inner coat pocket for his cell phone. He couldn't face a homicidal Dean on his own. He needed help, and there was only one person who seemed to be qualified enough.

The phone rang three times before a click and then a familiar voice answering, _"Hello?"_

"Bobby, the demon got to Dean," rushed Sam as he kept his eyes peeled for any kind of movement on the road.

_"You're facing a demon? What happened?"_

"I- I don't know. We were at the bar where the demon's been spotted, and he got to Dean who is practically ready to go all Norman Bates on my ass."

There was a pause on the other end as though Bobby expected to hear more detail or perhaps was thinking of what kind of demon could turn a brother against a brother. The silence persisted. Sam opened his mouth to continue with his theory when he heard the loud thumps of books being dropped on a table and the rustling of papers.

"I think it's Cain - you know, Cain and Abel," Sam said urgently. "I mean, hell, Bobby, we faced the Seven Deadly Sins so why not the first murderer in the history of man?"

_"Put as much distance between you and Dean as possible."_

"That plan's already in progress. I ditched him at the bar and stole the Impala."

The conversation lapsed into silence once more. Sam waited impatiently for any advice as he scanned for abandoned properties where he could hide out until a solution was brought up. That's when a soft _"shit" _could be heard over the line before a TV flickered to life.

"Bobby?"

_"The Bible's more truthful than people give it credit to be. The underlying themes of the fall of Satan, Lucifer, Hell, there are factual incidents that hunters have reported since the very beginning of time. Some hunters always believed that true evil became demons - that demons just didn't spurt from the earth. Many suspected Cain to be among them but there have been no actual sightings of Cain. Hunters claimed that when Cain died, he was banished to Hell where he was indoctrinated to become as a demon - hell, some hunters believed he was given the status of a devil. What's been happenin' lately gives us concrete evidence that what we _are_ dealing with Cain live and in the flesh."_

"What do mean? What's been happening?"

_"A couple weeks after the gate was opened, archeologists found a sword that was believed to have been crafted before Christ. Once the sword was uncovered, these murders started to happen - a brother going after another brother. This has been goin' on in ten different cities all together. Although, only one or two murders would happen before the next murders happened hundreds of miles away. Nobody really saw a pattern except a contact of mine has been tracking this demon all over America."_

Sam listened closely to the information that was being relayed to him. To his knowledge, depending on the text, Cain killed Abel in various ways. Some said Cain murdered his brother with his two bare hands, others said Abel was stabbed to death, yet another theory was that Abel had been stoned to death. There was no way of knowing _how_ exactly Cain murdered Abel.

"What are you trying to tell me, Bobby?"

_"This sword that was discovered has had showings all over for archeologists to look at. The latest showing had been in Egypt late last week. It was stolen. Since it's been stolen, the deaths of brothers increased dramatically and have stayed in one town."_

"You're thinking this sword was what Cain used to murder Abel then?"

_"I'm sayin' it has high possibilities, Sam,"_ Bobby said with a gruff sigh. _"If it was the murder weapon, I have a hunch it's the only way to kill the demon. Things that evil, that ancient, can't be killed easily, even if you do have a Colt which kills all things evil."  
_"What am I supposed to _do_, Bobby?"

A desperate tone laced Sam's words. No matter how far he ran, no matter how fast, Dean would find him. Even though Dean was tainted by a demon, even though his thoughts were all twisted within his head, Dean still knew Sam better than anyone. Like Dean, Sam would not be able to kill his brother in the direst of circumstances. Sam would rather die than hurt his brother.

_"Meet me in Ames, Iowa. Right outside of town about five minutes east, there should be this back road cabin. Stay there until I can get to you."_

The line then went dead. Sam arched his back into the leather bench seat and settled in for the long ride to Ames, Iowa. Long car rides weren't really that difficult growing up. When they were little, Dean and Sam would always find a way to entertain each other. As adults, they talked about the case, listened to music, or just slept. On this road trip by himself to Iowa, Sam didn't have the heart to listen to his brother's music so there was the excruciating silence that filled the Impala.

Sam had just crossed into Iowa when his cell phone rang. Reaching towards the passenger seat, he grabbed it. Someone he didn't know was calling him. The foreign number that glared on the front caused Sam to hesitate ever so slightly about answering it. Clicking 'talk', Sam put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"So, I hear your brother's gone bonkers and is looking to stab you a couple times," _a familiar British accent filtered through his ear. _"I do hear that's a popular thing this season."_

"Bela," he replied simply with slight irritation, "I don't have time for your crap."

_"Oh, poor darling, you're still upset that I grazed you with a bullet, right? Don't be such a drama queen, Sam. It's not very attractive."_

Gripping the tone tightly, Sam tried his best not to throw the phone out of the window into on-coming traffic. He clenched his jaw tightly.

"What do you want?"

_"What do I want? Oh, I want a limited edition pair of Jimmy Choo shoes. I want my own personal island with a mansion. I want a lot of things, Sam, that you can't possibly give me."_

"I don't have time for your nonsense, Bela."

_"Oh, but I think you do because you're talking to the thief who stole Cain's ancient sword from Cairo. I hear it's the only thing that can kill this now devil and stop Dean from carving you up like a nice turkey."_

Sam scoffed into the phone. He should have known she was the one who stole the sword. It couldn't have been anyone else when it came to the Winchesters' luck. No, it had to be Bela Talbot who wouldn't willingly hand over the sword unless she got a pretty penny for it first.

"What do you want for the sword? A couple million?"

_"Oh, no, a couple million wouldn't even cover the shipping. I have two buyers fighting over this sword as we speak. Last I checked, it was up to two-hundred million dollars and rising."_

"So what? You called me to say goodbye or something?" questioned Sam bitterly. "Go to hell."

_"Hmm, no thanks. Although, I do hear it's nice and toasty in the wintertime. I'm on the phone with you to make you a proposition."_

"What kind of proposition?"

_"Well, I'm glad you asked, Sam. You see, I've let it slip that Cain is out and about wrecking havoc. That has gotten a couple more buyers interested in the sword. If I could get Cain's blood on this sword, I have a feeling I'll be able to retire at the grand age of twenty-seven."_

"This is all personal gain for you then? We kill Cain with the sword, you sell it for a billion dollars, and my life is saved?"

_"I don't quite think I'll get a billion for the sword, but that is the gist of the situation."_

The last thing in the world that Sam wanted to do was help Bela out in any way, shape, or form. They had saved her pathetic life, and she unleashed Gordon onto them. No matter what the brothers tried to do, Bela was only there to make their lives a living hell.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

_"Look, I can meet Bobby Singer and come save your ass or I can let Dean kill you and hire someone to kill Cain for me afterwards. It's your choice. All I ask is that I keep the sword after Cain is dead. You won't owe me anything."_

"Funny, you know, seeing as Dean and I saved your life and you set a psychopath out to kill us."

_"I didn't set Gordon Walker out to kill you. He had a gun in my face, what was I supposed to do?"_

"Giving us a heads up would have been nice," Sam bit out.

_"I told you where to find Gordon, doesn't that call us even? I mean. Gordon's dead now anyways, so what does it matter?"_

"What matters is that we nearly died because of you."

_"Sam, seriously, lay off the dramatics. I've never met such a diva before in my life."_

Quickly, Sam weighed his options. If Bobby was right, than the Colt wouldn't be enough to kill Cain and they'd need the sword. Even if the Colt was enough, Dean had possession of it. On the other hand, the very prospect of working with Bela again made him sick to his stomach.

"How do you know that this sword is even Cain's?" questioned Sam.

_"The Hebrew engraving on the handle. It took a nice microscope and some cleverness, but I figured it out."_

"What does it say?"

_"'Cain, son of Adam, whose blade impaled Abel for revenge' or something to that effect,"_ she said off the top of her head.

"Fine. Bobby's meeting me in Ames, Iowa."

_"Yes, I know. I'm already on my way there. It seems like you lot love to give your death threats."_

"So this whole conversation was just pointless then?"

_"Pointless? No, I get to keep the sword so that's a plus. I'll be seeing you. Ta ta, Sam."_

The line went dead. Sam angrily threw the cell phone onto the seat next to him. Pressing his foot down a little more onto the gas, the Impala roared down the back roads of Iowa.

It wasn't hard to miss the abandoned cabin just east of Ames. The place looked like a death trap with broken windows, spray painted siding, and grass very much in need of a proper mowing. Pulling off the dirt road, Sam cut the engine to the Impala and took in the shithole once more. He snatched his phone and the keys before getting out of the car. Vaguely, he wandered how long it would take Bobby and Bela to arrive.

Popping the trunk, Sam rummaged through the weapons compartment. All of the weapons were useless. Dean had the Colt which was the only weapon that might do some damage on Cain. His eyes laid upon a shotgun tucked away in the back. Grabbing the gun, Sam loaded it with rock salt. If Dean came at him, he could shoot him to hurt but not to kill.

The little furniture in the cabin was broken and covered in thick layers of dust. Sam had little to work with in means of protection. He situated the biggest pieces of furniture, a couch and wardrobe, to barricade the front door and the door that lead into the back living room. Once finished, Sam sat in the living room area on the floor with the shotgun gripped in his hands. He waited.

The wait seemed like hours as the tension became palpable in the air and nerves slowly started to come undone. A car rumbled outside and then the sound of the engine cutting wafted through the thin walls. Sam stood up with the shotgun cocked and at the ready. Making his way to the window, he looked for a sign of Bobby or his car. There was nothing but pitch-blackness.

"Thought you could run, huh, Sammy?"

Whipping around, Sam poised the shotgun at a man standing in a caramel cloak and sandals. There was a malicious grin twisted onto his face as the dresser blocking the door flew across the room. Seconds later, Dean walked through the door with a knife in hand.

"Here's Johnny," Dean spoke in a sinister tone as made his way across the room towards his brother.

Sam's finger was on the trigger of the shotgun ready to pull it back when it flew out of his hands. The gun collided against the wall with a loud _crack_! Eyes darted from Dean to Cain. A pleading look crossed Sam's face as he stared at his brother while backing up towards the window.

Sam frantically tried to open the window. Just as it started to slide upwards, Sam was hurled across the room and collided into a wall. There was a sickening _crack! _and then a loud _thump!_ as Sam landed on the floor. Bits of plaster rained down onto Sam. He scrambled up quickly as his eyes shot towards Cain. Backing up slowly towards the nearest wall, Sam's gaze locked onto Dean.

"Dean, this isn't you," he tried to keep his voice even. "This demon is twisting your thoughts around. It's Cain. I was right all along."

"Yeah, of _course_, you were right, Sammy," seethed Dean. "Perfect little Sammy is never wrong. College boy thinks he's so smart all the damn time."

Sam started to breathe heavily as he quickly figured out he didn't have a whole lot of options. The only thing that could save him as of yet was Bobby and Bela getting there soon. Sam was flesh against the wall as Dean rounded on him. Cain walked across the room to stand by the window and watch the scene unfold before his eyes.

"You always got everything," said Dean as he stood nearly a foot away from his brother with the knife still in his hand. "Whenever you wanted something growing up, Dad gave it to you. Sure, he'd bitch and moan about how ungrateful you were, but he always gave in at the end of the day. He was pissed when you left for college. I'd never seen him so freakin' livid in my life. A couple weeks later, Dad's doting on you to everyone he meets. 'My son Sammy got a full ride to Stanford,' he'd say. 'Sammy was always the smart one in the family. I knew he had it in him,' he'd tell complete strangers. It was never about me. He never once gave a damn that I gave up my whole life for him, for his cause. He never once appreciated my sacrifices and loyalty to this family. I have given everything that I have ever had to him and to this family, and yet a traitor like _you_ got all the glory?"

"Dean, listen to me. Bobby said that the guy over there, the one that twisted your thoughts, is Cain live and in the flesh. He's a devil, okay? Don't do this."

"Don't listen to him, Dean," Cain said in soft voice. "He's trying to manipulate you like he always does."

Sam let out a bitter laugh as he glared at Cain. He shook his head side to side before looking back at Dean - or who was supposed to be Dean. His brother's eyes shone with hate as he glowered at Sam. The guy hovering before him didn't even look like Dean any longer - a stranger who bore little resemblance to his brother.

"How do you think you even got so smart, Sam? I was the one who sat down with you to do your homework and quiz you. I neglected my own work to help you. Then you got to go to college and live the golden life while I was living in crap motels and trying to keep Dad from killing himself. It was always me protecting this family. Dad would come home wrecked from a hunt. I'd be the one to comfort him while you would just bug him for ice cream or something stupid. You never gave a damn about us."

"You know I appreciate that, Dean. You're my big brother. I owe you _everything_."

"You got to be a kid. Dad and I always tried to make sure you were a kid. I never got to be a kid. At four, I had responsibilities that you couldn't even imagine. I had to run house and take care of your ungrateful ass when Dad was out saving people's lives," Dean fumed. "You don't think I had dreams? You don't think that I wanted a life too? I wanted to restore old cars, make them new again. I wanted to be a firefighter. I didn't want to waste my whole life hunting demons and ghosts, but I did. I did it for Dad, because he needed someone to empathize with him. He needed someone to talk to. It was my responsibility though, because I was the oldest. You got to do whatever the hell you wanted to, and Dad never once hated you for it."

Sam tried to block out the words that were cutting through the air. He tried to remember that it wasn't Dean talking but rather Cain. Except, the words stung. The words crashed into him and made the guilt start to bubble inside of him.

"He doesn't understand, Dean," spoke Cain. "Kill him now, and I promise you will feel free."

Reaching out a hand, Dean clamped his fingers firmly around Sam's neck. He pushed his younger brother back against the wall as hard as he could. Sam gasped as the fingers tightened around his windpipe. Fruitlessly, he tried to claw at Dean's hand, to push the hand away from his neck.

"You know I've made a lot of mistakes in my life," Dean said coolly. "The biggest mistake I ever made was selling my soul to bring you back to life. You're not grateful for the sacrifice I made. You call me selfish and a hypocrite. If it wasn't for me, you'd be six feet under right now."

"Dean," Sam gasped out with pleading eyes. "Please."

Dean didn't loosen his grip or show any emotion at the feeble plea. Instead, he raised the knife and let Sam see it as clear as day. The blade cut Sam's shirt and dragged carefully along his chest just below his collarbones. Sam bit down on his bottom lip tightly as the hand loosened ever so slightly on his throat. The irony tang of blood filled his mouth.

"Sam!" A voice screamed somewhere in the house. "Dean!"

It took awhile for Sam's mind to register Bobby had arrived to save them. Dean faltered in his torturing of his brother. His head snapped towards the doorway. The door slammed shut which caused both Winchesters to jump slightly.

"Finish him off!" Cain roared.

The doorknob jiggled and a fist pounded on the wood. Tearing his gaze from the door, Dean focused his attention back to his little brother. The knife wavered faintly in his hand.

"Kill him now!"

Sam pleaded silently to his brother as he squirmed weakly. The pounding continued. Out of the corner of his eye, in what seemed just in time, Sam saw Bobby maneuvering his way into the room through the window as quietly as possible. His boot hit the side of the window. Both Dean and Cain turned towards the noise. Bobby tumbled into the room with the sword in hand. Quickly, he shoved the sword forward and pierced Cain directly in the abdomen.

A sickening moan filled the room. The door to the living room burst open and Bela came stumbling in the room. Dean staggered away from his brother, the knife dropping on the floor. Sam slid down the wall and attempted to stop the bleeding of the slash across his chest as he jaggedly breathed.

Bobby pulled the sword out of Cain whose body fell to the ground with a loud _thump_! The oldest hunter took in the scene in front of him. Sam was gasping on the floor, Dean was glancing around the room in uncertainty, and Bela held open her hand for the sword.

"A deal's a deal. Your golden boys are alive, so I get the sword," announced Bela. "Don't even think of wiping that blood off either."

"Sammy," Dean spoke softly as he knelt down in front of his brother.

"'M fine," he gasped out. "Fine."

"Take your damn sword," grumbled Bobby as he made his way over towards the Winchester boys, "and get the hell outta here."

Bobby knelt down next to Dean and quickly assessed the damage on Sam. The cut across his chest was oozing with blood. His lip was bleeding. Bright red handprints shone brightly on his neck. A yellowish bruise was starting to form on the left side of his face. The kid would live.

"But, Bobby, you're my ride back," Bela broke the silence, "so I can't possibly just leave."

Sam watched through half-closed eyelids Bobby turning around and most likely giving the girl the most heated of looks. He turned his attention onto Dean slightly afraid that he wasn't 100 Dean still. Both brothers stared at each other with uncertainty written clearly on their faces. Dean reached out and offered Sam support. They struggled to stand up, and Dean half carried him out of the abandoned house.

Dean settled Sam onto the hood of the Impala. He was half sitting, half leaning against the front of the car. Bobby disappeared while Bela watched the brothers in mild interest. Dean blocked Bela out. His main concern was Sammy, his baby brother who he'd hurt in more ways than one. Tugging on Sam's shirt, he pulled it off completely to take a look at the gash across his chest.

"Shit, Sammy," breathed Dean.

Guilt was splashed across Dean's face. He could remember verbally and physically attacking his brother. Dean felt sick to his stomach. Sure, he'd been jealous of Sam in the past but never to that degree. It felt as though his feelings were exaggerated, that the bad outweighed the good. The hate overwhelmed the love.

Bobby was at their sides with a first aid kit. Dean slowly backed away from his brother to let the older hunter attend to his wounds. With hands stuffed in his leather jacket, he made his way back into the abandon house to get rid of Cain's body.

"Does saving your brother qualify us for having angry sex yet?" Bela's voice rang from behind him. "You _did _stand me up in Massachusetts."

Faltering in his stride, Dean turned around to look at the woman who had a wide smirk plastered across her face. Her hand gripped the ancient sword as it hung loosely at her side.

"What? You want me to thank you or something? Not gonna happen," he spoke evenly as his eyes wandered back to his brother. "You didn't do this out of the kindness of your heart, Bela, because you don't have a heart. You did this to jack up the price of that fancy little sword of yours. I don't want any part of that."

"Oh, so credit card scams, hustling pool, and lying are so much better than selling unique items to a select clientele?"

"You sell dangerous, lethal items to rich snobs who don't know any better - not to mention some of these items help save lives."

"You're talking about the sword? Dean, Cain is dead. This sword is useless to hunters. Give it a rest."

Biting back a response, Dean turned and walked towards the house. He could hear Bela's shoes clicking after him. Once in the living room, he looked down at the dead devil who almost got him to kill his own brother without remorse. Grabbing the demon's arms, Dean started to pull him out of the house. They'd burn him around back.

"Look, I got work to do, so why don't you go wait in the car and make some phone calls about how the devil's dead, all right?"

"Maybe I want to help you do… whatever it is you do."

"Salt 'n burn?" Dean questioned with skepticism.

"Whatever."

"Sorry, but I don't think you want to get your shoes dirty."

Dean pushed pass Bela while dragging the dead body along. He settled it outside a spot of withered grass. Bobby and Sam were walking towards him with a bag of salt and gasoline. Bobby started to sprinkle the salt, Sam poured the gasoline, and Dean dug the matches out of his jeans pocket.

"I'm going to be so glad when I don't have to look at this fugly devil ever again," muttered Dean as he lit the whole packet of matches.

"Is it a devil or a demon?" Sam inquired to Bobby.

"There's no lore on it, but I'd wager a devil."

Sam nodded as the body went up in flames. Through the fire, the brothers caught each other's eyes. Silently, Dean hoped that an apology wafted through the air. It wasn't him. He didn't have control. Once the blaze died down, Dean turned to Bobby with a soft smile on his face.

"Thanks, Bobby, for everything."

"Keep your eyes open and try to be more careful, will ya?"

"You got it, Bobby," replied Sam with a faint grin.  
Dean nodded towards his brother, and the two made their way towards the Impala. They didn't look at each other, didn't speak, but rather just went to their respective sides of the car. Dean was just about to sit down when Bela's voice called, "What? I don't get a thanks?"

"You'll get one when you earn it," called Dean.

"I helped save your brother's life," she countered.

"Yeah, well, we saved your pathetic life and didn't get a thanks, so I guess we're sorta even." He smirked as he turned to Bobby. "Catch you on the next one."

Hauling his frame into the Impala, he slammed the door shut. Sam tossed over the keys, and Dean shoved them in the ignition. The muscle car roared to life as it pulled out onto the road. Looking back in the rearview mirror, Dean watched as Bobby and Bela situated themselves in his car.

"You know what I said back there, that wasn't me talking. Cain was all up in my head and…" Dean said half-heartedly, shame thick in his voice.

"Yeah, I… sorry about the Impala, Man."

With a shake of the head, Dean reached over towards the cassette player. Turning it on, a low hum of Metallica filled the car. Dean reached over towards the volume and turned it up to full blast. The Impala rolled down the back streets of Iowa with blaring music toward another town and another hunt where they would most likely never bring up what happened again.

* * *

Several fanfiction writers have gotten together to provide all of us Supernatural fans with a bit of entertainment. With the strike, we know our favorite show could very well go off the air if viewers start to lack. So, a select few fans have decided to finish out season three the way we see it. Every Thursday, a new 'episode' will be premiering for your reading pleasure. Come back **next week** for an all new episode.

Special thanks to Kim, Kel, AJ, Shannon, and Senari who each had a part in making this premiere as good as it gets. I owe you girls so much.


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